


Look at you, looking at me.

by PrefectMoony



Category: Little Women (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22933045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrefectMoony/pseuds/PrefectMoony
Summary: Another beat passes and Mr March, preening and delighted, glides down the stairs, arm in arm with his youngest.And oh.Laurie’s nearly forgotten that little Amy isn’t quite so little anymore. Of course she’s gone ahead and grown into a young lady, one as beautiful and breath taking as all her other sisters.He vaguely takes notice of the squeals escaping the lips from the March girls,and the lecture Mr March feels indebted to give even if he’s considered Laurie a practical son for nearly a decade now. He smiles and holds onto Amy for as many photos as the Marchs demand, and he makes sure Amy is steady coming down the stairs of their porch before they walk to his grandfather’s old Jag across the way.Laurie never takes his eyes off of her.Amy’s golden hair is done up in some sort of elaborate up-due that he knows she’s always favored for special occasions like these, and the deep violet of her gown makes her emerald eyes all the more piercing. And God, she’s beautiful. And God, Laurie can’t stop staring.ORLaurie escorts Amy to her senior prom
Relationships: Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 49
Kudos: 341





	1. Chapter 1

“that untalented, insufferable, egotistical old lout!” 

Laurie wrestles down the grin threatening to break his face in half, can’t help but think Joe’s dramatics are equal parts ridiculous and overblown.

“You’re still ranting about the professor?” He asks with a mild quirk of the brow.

“Yes! The dick!”

“The published author?”

“The one who gave me a C on my latest short story!” Joe corrects caustically, face flushed and fists clenched.

“What a wicked monster,” Laurie deadpans, crunches up from his lounging position so that they’re sitting side by side on the lounge’s sectional. “How dare he not spot the genius behind this generations very own Dickens!”

With pinched lips, Joe follies him a properly scathing glower. 

“You are such a smart ass Teddy, are you aware?”

“Lucky me I’ve got you to remind me once I start to forget,” he goads, ruffles a hand in her messy tresses, which makes her shoulder check him in turn.

It’s so easy that Laurie can hardly believe it. He looks at her now, at Joe’s crooked smile and the dimple on her chin, and he sees the girl who grabbed his hand his first day in the fifth grade and proclaimed that they’d be the best of friends for the rest of time. He sees the girl who he’s loved for as long as he could remember and the girl who he’ll always call his best mate. They almost lost one another after graduation, he had been so insistent and sure and unswerving, but Joe had been as effortlessly knowing as ever. 

We would end up hating one another Teddy. You just want to fall into the familiar because that’s all you’ve ever known, all you’ve ever wanted to know.

That had hurt like nothing else, and Laurie thought it was a wound that would never scab over. But then the summer came and went. Joe had left to her New York internship, and Laurie had escaped to Europe with his grandfather and they hadn’t exchanged a singular text or email or call. But then the autumn breeze had trickled into the dying summer heat. And they found each other again. The best of friends for forever, and nothing more.

Laurie’s wound had healed without his even realizing it, nothing left in its wake other than the nostalgia of childhood days, frothy and gleeful and ever so easy. 

“What’s got you in such a foul mood?” She gripes. 

“I’m in a perfectly fine mood Joe, you’ve just got a big head.”

She tosses him the bird right then and Laurie can’t hold back his snickers for any longer.

“Oh I know what it is!” Joe crows, suddenly gleeful and punching his side with frantic hands. “Tonight’s the night you’re forced to take our dear little Amy the Brat to her prom!”

“Amy’s not a brat Joe,” Laurie toots, clucks his tongue at her attitude

“Oy, course you don’t think so, she’s been smitten with you since before she gave you that awful mold of her stinky little foot when we were ten.” 

“That was cute,” Laurie chuckles, has always found Amy’s school girl crush on him endearing. It’s been nearly two years since he’s actually seen her, what with his and Joe attending University in Boston now and considering that the last Christmas he had spent at the March household she had gone abroad with their Aunt. He’s been roped into this by over hearing her sobs while Joe was catching up with Meg on the telephone. Laurie loves each of the March girls, of course he’d offer escorting her for the night after her “no good, dirty mongrel” of a best friend had asked out the boy she was waiting on.

“Cringing and egotistical you mean?” Joe says, gets up now to start collecting her things.

“Pot calling the kettle egotistical?” 

Joe’s smile goes vicious and Laurie is only mildly terrified. 

.-

Another hour passes and the pair of them take the train to Concord.

The March estate is beautiful in it’s modesty, covered in the greens of spring while ringing out with the warmth and love Laurie has always been blown away by witnessing, ever since moving here from upstate New York and somehow being given the permission to infiltrate on the sacred bond between the little women next door.

They step through the threshold and it feels like nothing at all has changed. 

“You think she’s plastered on enough makeup to look like one of those old time Hollywood stars?” Joe asks mulishly, taunting sneer set on her lovely lips.

“Don’t be rude my love, it’s not a pretty color on you,” they both look up, Joe leaping into her mother’s arms the moment she could.

“Marmee I’ve missed you!” 

“Me so much more my little love,” she beckons Laurie to join them, gets on the tops of her toes to kiss his temple in greeting. “Little Amy can’t stop singing your praises. You’ve truly saved her.”

“Of course Marmee, anything for the girls.” 

The way her gaze softens at that makes Laurie proud that he’s earned that trust, but also suspicious towards the March matriarch, a woman who knows practically everything before it even happens.

He has no time to question her though, their conversation is interrupted by a glowing Meg, and Beth, both announcing the final March sister going out to her final formal.

“Oh how tragic,” Joe rolls her eyes, but the soft smile curling the ends of her lips gives her away— she’s just as excited as the others.

Another beat passes and Mr March, preening and delighted, glides down the stairs, arm in arm with his youngest.

And oh.

Laurie’s nearly forgotten that little Amy isn’t quite so little anymore. Of course she’s gone ahead and grown into a young lady, one as beautiful and breath taking as all her other sisters.

He vaguely takes notice of the squeals escaping the lips from the other four, and the lecture Mr March feels indebted to give even if he’s considered Laurie a practical son for nearly a decade now. He smiles and holds onto Amy for as many photos as the Marchs demand, and he makes sure Amy is steady coming down the stairs of their porch before they walk to his grandfather’s old Jag across the way.

He never takes his eyes off of her.

Amy’s golden hair is done up in some sort of elaborate up-due that he knows she’s always favored for special occasions like these, and the deep violet of her gown makes her emerald eyes all the more piercing. And God, she’s beautiful. And God Laurie can’t stop staring.

“I don’t even know how to thank you,” Amy dimples up at him, still so tiny and so utterly beautiful. 

“Ames don’t mention it,” he tells her, helps her get into the car before he saddles into the driver’s seat. “Of course I’d help out.”

“But you came all the way from University, and had to find a suit and get your grandfather to lend his car,” she begins to ramble, and it’s so nice to know that there’s still some level ground here. Nice to know that even if she’s all grown up, she’s still little Amy.

“Don’t be silly Amy,” he intones, gives her a meaningful look as he pulls into the main road to get to the hotel where her prom will be taking place. “I’d do anything for you.”

A quiet collapses over them right then— not taught but not easy either. When Laurie finally musters up the courage to cut a gaze her way he finds her eyes set towards the distance, and her smile so quiet and reserved that it’s frankly unsettling. 

“You’re not seeing anyone Laurie?” She asks, completely out of the blue. Laurie’s confused as all get out as he answers with a small shaking to his head. “You’re still recovering from Joe then?” She surmises.

“What?” He asks, now completely flabbergasted.

“No shame in it Laurie, we March girls are a intoxicating lot,” she says airily, almost without feeling. “We were all so shocked that she didn’t say it back to you, I swear that sister of mine is mad! Completely off her rocker to let a guy like you slip out her grasp.”

Laurie isn’t sure if he should thank her or correct her, opts to not say anything. Rather, Laurie focusses on this entirely unpleasant feeling that’s burrowed itself in his gut, a sensation of wrongness. Perhaps it’s just come about from how suddenly little Amy March has got him feeling so wrong footed.

“Just take the left here, and we’ll be there.” Amy tells him, and the moment passes.

.-

“It’s beautiful,” Laurie says the moment they walk into the ballroom.

“It’s okay,” Amy corrects reprovingly, dent between her brows that Laurie would really like to wipe across with the pad of his thumb. “I told them that pastels would make for a better esthetic, but no they just had to argue that putting the schools horrid colors would make it more spirited.”

His mouth dips down into a grin, has always found Amy’s pursuit of perfection one of her more charming qualities.

“You helped put this soiree together?” he asks, lets himself be lead to the refreshments table as Amy follies nods and grins towards other vibrant faces as if it were an olympic sport. 

“Well of course Laurie,” she teases, laughter in her eyes and the sparkling lights from above kissing the tops of her cheeks so tenderly that she blows him away all over again. “The student body president isn’t just a pretty face.”

Laurie pretends that he doesn’t feel the heat rushing to his ears after she winks for good measure, is thankful Amy doesn’t catch it on account to another friend calling hello.

“Little Amy March is the president of her student body?” He snorts, is careful when he tugs back a rebellion curl behind her ear.

“I’ve always hated you all calling me that,” she harrumphs, pours them each a glass with an imperious tilt to her pale head. “An yes of course I am. You aught to have known that Laurie.”

“Forgive me,” he thanks her before excepting the drink. “It’s just I seem to remember Joe preferring to skip half the day of classes over attending even one of the school’s rallies.”

“Well duh, Joe’s the liberated one.” Amy says in such a dry tone that Laurie honestly feels a bit dim for not immediately understanding that just because Joe had an infamous disgust for school functions, it didn’t mean that would prove true for the other sisters as well.

“Is that right?” He asks, his hazel eyes boring into her emerald ones with more intensity than intended. Though he must admit the way she reddens just slightly does make something splendid blossom in his chest.

“Yes. Joe’s the brightest and most liberated one of us. Meg’s the most beautiful and love sick. And Beth, well Beth is the best of us all.”

Laurie thinks those are unfair assessments. Far too shallow, and far too rigid. But he plays along, if only because he’s enjoying himself far more than he could’ve ever imagined.

“And you?” He asks with a tip of his drink.

“Me?” She repeats, perplexed sounding.

“Yes, you Amy. What are you.”

She shrugs her bare shoulders, expression indifferent. “I’m the leftovers. Not as pretty as Meg, or as talented as Joe, or as kind as Beth.”

“Bull shit,” Laurie says so quickly that it even takes him aback. “You’re remarkable Ames.”

“I’m sufficient,” she says, voice now completely stripped from all its lovely inflections and lilts. It sounds bare, and Laurie never thought he could hate a tone so much, but here he is.

“Bullshit,” he repeats with such feeling that he has to slam down his drink, can’t even believe what he’s listening to her say out loud, what she must somehow believe.

“You’re nice, you’ve always been so nice Laurie,” she says with a smile so small that it doesn’t even touch her eyes.

Laurie wants to tell her that she’s insane. He wants to tell her that she’s beautiful through every layer. Wants to tell her that she’s one of the only people who can make him laugh without even expecting it. He wants to tell her that only someone brilliant can do as much as she does.

He tells her noen of that.

“Fred!”

“Excuse me?” Laurie squints down at her, turns around when she gestures to the boy standing behind him, a vaguely familiar face that he recognizes from the excruciating dinner parties his grandfather had dragged him to throughout his adolescents.

“Amy you look radiant,” he says, doesn’t bother to acknowledge Laurie.

“Oh, thank you,” she ducks her head and it’s the first boy that isn’t him that makes Amy blush like she were that starry eyed school girl all over again.

Laurie comes to the conclusion that he does not like this Fred fellow, not even slightly.

“May I?” He asks her, hand open. 

Amy flickers a gaze up at Laurie and he realizes that she actually wants to dance with this prick.

“Oh, ah yeah. Yeah go ahead.”

She mouths her thanks before gliding off with Fred, and well everything feels off kilter now.


	2. Two

With a ginger squeezing to her hand, Fred leads Amy to the center of the dance floor, sporting a cheshire cat smile all the while. 

In the measured way she’s recently only begun to wear like a second skin, Amy allows herself one glance backwards to a very confused looking Laurie— brows knit and thin lips pinched ever so slightly. She can still hardly believe that he’s here, that he had not only agreed, but flat out offered to escort her to the most important night of her high school career after Laurel Matthews had circumvented Amy’s original plans by asking out Fred before he could muster up the courage to ask Amy himself. Perhaps it’s not really the correct way to feel, but Amy is more than pleased by the turning tables, would be a liar if she had pretended that she hadn’t use to tack Laurie’s name onto her list of must haves for her own senior prom. But that was back when she was a starry eyed twelve year old who saw Laurie and swore that he had set all the stars in the sky with his own two hands— had hung the moon while he was at it. It was before she caught on to the fire in his eyes whenever he merely glanced upon Joe. Back before Amy had realized that she didn’t want to be an after thought anymore, that she wanted to be seen for something more than the pampered March sister. She wanted to be something great herself, someone that people could strive to become.

Even though they had been first introduced to one another during one of the Laurence family fourth of July barbecues— a party where all the March girls are in top form— Fred was the first guy to look at Amy and see just that. He saw Amy and he never looked like he wish she were something more, something like one of her older sisters. Fred saw Amy and that’s all he ever wanted to see. 

It’s not exactly the heart thudding, insides imploding, toe curling sort of want that the poets write of, but it’s a warmth and delight that Amy could see herself wrapped within for as long as he’d have her, and if the way Fred’s dimpling down at her right now— cornflower blue eyes sparkling with mirth and grasp tight on her hip— he’d have her for all the time to come. And what a lovely thought that is.

The music shifts into something a bit faster, and Amy’s called over to help litigate on an issue concerning the decoration team. 

“I’ll find you later,” she tells Fred.

“I’ll wait,” he says in something like a promise.

Amy wonders if it’s one she could keep with quite the same fervency.

.-

“This place would fall apart without you Ames,” Laurie says once she comes back, near panting, from the impromptu meeting she had with the staff in charge of refreshments, because of course after sending someone to buy a new pack of balloons after a bunch had been popped, Amy had to call the live band and give them a tongue lashing for still not being here nearly an hour in, which then was followed by the hotel banning any sort of food that wasn’t bought by there catering staff— only agreeing to as much once Amy spent a quarter of an hour reasoning with the night manager with one of her admittedly more beguiling smiles and softer drawls.

“Why are people so unreliable,” she mutters morosely, completely ignores the lurching to her gut that comes about by just looking at Laurie standing there, waiting for her. How remarkable of a thing it is.

“Not all of us are as put together as Saint Amy,” he goads, smile soft as he steps all the closer.

“Prick,” she scolds, faux affronted and reluctantly amused. Amy can’t help the way her cheeks redden at the splendid peals of laughter he lets out right then, can’t help but liken it to her most cherished memories from growing up. And God, how can she still feel like such a frazzled little girl whenever he so much as just looks at her. Amy’s become so regimented in every part of her life, but this— Laurie— will always just evoke the most thrilling, most maddening sort of longing from her.

How downright pathetic.

“I only speak truths,” he sniffs, words coded in the humor she’s always adored, thinks on how his boyish smiles and the conviction in his eyes never fail in blowing her away.

“Whatever loser.”

“You know, we’ve been here for nearly two hours and I haven’t gotten to dance with you yet little Mis March,” he tells her, still smiling softly. Amy privately thinks that he looks like one of those portraits of God’s angels, all big eyes and sharp cheekbones and a distant sort of beauty about him. How could Joe not want him for all he is? It’s absolutely bonkers!

“Is that your way of asking me to dance Laurie?” She stifles a laugh, braces herself for the electricity that prickles down her spine with every touch they share.

“Well I’d be delighted,” he crows teasingly, spins her around as the now set up band begins to play a slower melody, making it so her wrists lock behind his neck, and Laurie rests his hands on either side of her narrow waste.

“You ah, you look beautiful tonight Ames.” He falters between thoughts for a moment, and Amy tries to catch her breath. “You are beautiful.”

“Thanks Laurie,” she replies in a tone quiet enough so that he’d have to read her lips to understand her. Amy turns her head so that their eyes aren’t boring into one another’s for any longer. She thinks of Joe’s face, reminds herself that Laurie belongs to her, reminds herself that Laurie will always love Joe, anyone else is merely a consolation prize, and Amy knows herself well enough that she knows she deserves more than to be someone’s backup option. She wouldn’t do that to herself, wouldn’t do it to Laurie either, he deserves his true love. Maybe Amy could help in that, get Joe to pull her head out her ass and actually understand how Laurie’s the complete package and then some.

Amy could do that. For Laurie and her sister she would do that. It’s the only right path for either of them. And in spite of what Joe may think, Amy’s always been resilient. She realized she’d never get to have Laurie long ago, so she crafted her own path, chose her own destiny with Fred Vaughn. Amy March is tenacious, something like this won’t hold her back.

“So I still can’t believe you put this whole shindig together,” he says. “Did I miss the fact that you’re a total control freak?”

“That’s derogatory,” she huffs.

“Oh but it’s totally true isn’t it!” He smiles delightedly. “I bet you’ve got an agenda book, and color coordinated pens@ Oh please Ames, please tell me you’ve got a huge calendar you write everything into!”

“So what Laurie!” She practically squawks, brows hiked up and smile very nearly threatening to split her face in half.

“That’s great!” Laurie throws back his head in laughter and she steps on his toes for good measure.

“Yale doesn’t take in chumps Laurence,” she snarks, uses his full name just to get a rise out of him.

“Oh no, of course not. The Bulldog’s are a distinguished bunch.” He says wryly.

“I hate you,” she informs him, can’t help but parse out all the shades of green that dance in his chestnut eyes. Laurie has such beautiful eyes, they’ve always been Amy’s favorite pair.

“No you don’t,” he retorts softly, their foreheads touching ever so slightly, making it so Amy could count out each breath that escapes her lips.

“What are you doing,” she asks in a whisper.

“Looking at you,” he says with far too much fondness, and God, Amy feels so out of sorts.

“NO Laurie, I mean what are you doing back in Boston? Your classes, your major.” 

“I dunno,” he admits, looks like he’d much rather be speaking on something else, but Amy doesn’t pay it any mind, less she melts completely.

“I reckon you’d make a great business major,” she tells him. “I mean your grandfather went to Harvard for his MBA, you can follow in his footsteps too. Finally start working in the family business, make him proud.”

Another silence collapses over the pair, though this time there’s a distinct static charging between them, a static Amy’s never known— neither has Laurie if the strange way he’s staring at her is anything to go by.

“Is that what you’d do if you were me Amy?” He asks, sounding both curious and exposed, like Amy held the last string to his world.

“You have so much to offer Laurie,” she tells him meaningfully. “Don’t just throw it all away. 

Laurie twirls her around again, folding their bodies closer once she returns to him.

“So Fred?” he speaks the non sequitur like it was burning his lips to come out.

“Fred?” Amy repeats, confused by the gleam in his hazel eyes she doesn’t recognize, and oh. How strange of a thought, that in fact she no longer knows Laurie’s mood based off a quirk of the brow, or curl to the mouth. That’s unnerving if Amy’s being honest, that she doesn’t quite know this Laurie, that he’s not the same boy who rescued her from a frozen lake and the one who told her to pursue her art when she was scared she’d never be as talented as Joe was with her words. 

“Yes Fred,” he continues, voice flat enough to cut. “I didn’t know you guys became close?”

“It’s nothing official,” Amy shrugs, bristling only slightly at how long it’s taken him just to call her his girl once and for all, as if the whole school— including smelly old Laurel Matthews— didn’t know as much. “We were in the school’s performance of Age of Innocence together last spring, and well we grew close I guess.”

“You guess?” Lauri needles, and Amy’s completely confused to why he sounds so cross suddenly, tries parsing out what could’ve annoyed him without her noticing it.

“Yes Laurie, i guess.” Amy scolds, near caustic. “It’s not as if we’re in the 1950s, he hasn’t exactly asked to go steady with me.” 

They’ve completely stopped swaying to the music now, a few eyes flickering over to the obviously tense conversation, and God. This is so embarrassing, arguing with him like this, out in front of all her peers. The ones who ordinarily just see her bubblegum exterior of prep and perfection and precision. What must they think now? Will they even still vote her in for prom queen? Will they start thinking she’s some sort of petulant brat, and what? She’s back to being the doted on baby March who doesn’t work for a single thing she has? No! Fuck that! Amy’s worked so hard for this, and Laurie doesn’t get to do this! Act like some sort of scorned ex, or even worse— like a protective older brother.

How utterly gross.

“That’s kind of scummy,” Laurie charges, scowling in a way Amy never fathomed his features could contort. She doesn’t like this on him, not at all. “”So what he’s just been tugging you along for a year?”

“It’s not as if I’m Virgin Marry Laurie!” Amy scolds hotly, feels her face flushed in a completely different way than she ordinarily does when she’s around Laurie. She’s just so furious. “I’m not some pathetic loser just waiting on one idiot to finally notice me.”

Amy wonders if the hollow words ring true, wonders if he caught on to the actual meaning behind them. Laurie’s face goes slack in shock, so that’s nearly good enough for her.

Fueled from pure rage, Amy pivots around, watches as the other couples start to turn away from them now, is only halted when Laurie’s long fingers make a dainty circle around her wrist, pleadingly. 

“Ames I’m sorry.”

“Whatever Laurie,” she skewers him with a look, tries tugging away, but he doesn’t let her. “Just let go.”

“Amy please, just talk to me,” he begs, big eyes imploring.

She should say no. Amy should yell at him for ruining her prom, and for making her feel so small and naive again, vulnerable in ways Amy absolutely hates. She should yell at him that he has no business commenting on her love life just because he wants to be her sibling in some capacity one day. She should! She has the right to say all of that and then some! She does!

Amy’s about to do it even, parts her lips and sucks in a breath to prepare, but then she gets caught up staring at him. He’s so beautiful and he’s the boy she’s always wanted, and he’s here, he’s asking for her to give him all her attentions just for now. And isn’t that what Amy’s always wanted? How can she refuse him this?

“Fine,” she breathes out sourly, and he grins like she’s just gifted him all the treasures of the seven seas.

.-

Laurie leads them to the Jag, but they don’t speak until he parks over by the lake, follows suit when Amy slips off her heals and collapses onto the ground in front of the water, absolutely uncaring about the stains that are surely to be imprinted onto her gown.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says to her, stilted and nervous sounding. 

Amy only scoffs, wraps her arms around herself to stave off the breeze and doesn’t even spare him a glance.

“Ames,” he tries for broke, scoots closer to her and gingerly blankets her with his jacket.

“I wish you would bare it better,” she finally seethes, hates how open this all feels, far too intimate and far too much like her girlish fantasies. 

“Bare what?” He asks, chances folding his hand over her clenched fist.

“Laurie just because Joe turned you down doesn’t mean love is dead for the rest of us!” Amy very nearly explodes, her tone emphatic. “I’m sorry, I am. But— But—“

“I don’t love Joe,” Laurie is quick to interject, positively frantic.

“Excuse me,” Amy stutters silent, pinning him with a one eyed squint. “But you said it— You told her!”

Laurie gives an impassive shrug. “She was right, I love her like nothing else, but just— Just not in that way. I haven’t thought that i loved her like that in a while.”

“A while?” Amy repeats, feeling entirely floundered now, can’t help how the tension woven in her posture suddenly fades, and their hands begin to interlace into one another. 

“Quite,” Laurie says for emphasis, a dark expression coming over him now. “Like years.”

“Oh,” all the fight just pours out of Amy, and she suddenly feels like she’s stepped onto uncharted lands.

“You said love,” Laurie needles. “Are you in love? With Fred I mean.”

“No, no I’m not.” Amy assures him, feels something absolutely peculiar but utterly miraculous curl deep in her stomach.

“Good,” Laurie preens right then, right before he cups a soft hand against Amy’s cheek and leans forwards to slant his lips against her own. He tastes like butterscotch and sunlight and violet skies. He tastes like all the indulgences Amy’s never let herself have, woven into one being.

.-

They don’t return to the prom. 

They stay swapping kisses underneath the stars and on the grass, in their own slice of eternity, and neither ever wants to leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH to the kind souls who left comments on the first chapter! It means all the stars and galaxies to me!! Truly! But also thank you for anyone who left a Kudo or made a bookmark<3 I adore you guys!
> 
> PLEASE If you guys have any prompts you'd like to see written for them just shoot me a message on Tumblr! I adore these two and feel bad that this ended now XD   
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://LiterallyLen.tumblr.com) <3 <3 <3  
> With love!  
> ~Len

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not quite sure what this is, but I just love these two together so freaking much!!!! 
> 
> It would mean the world and stars to me if you maybe left a comment letting me know what you thought, or if I should continue it?
> 
> Come chat with me on [Tumblr](http://LiterallyLen.tumblr.com) !!
> 
> With love!  
> ~Len


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